Alfie leans over and picks up a book from his little bedside table. ‘This one. It’s my favourite. Mum always does funny voices.’
I sit beside him as he snuggles down and hands me the book.‘Mud Cake and Magic,’I read aloud. ‘I like it already.’
Early one morning, with eyes all bloodshot
A witch stared into her empty black pot.
I gasp. ‘A witch? Alfie, is this story going to give me nightmares? I don’t have a Max at home to protect me – only Matt and he’s even scared of spiders.’
He laughs. ‘No, silly, she’s not a bad witch, you’ll see.’
‘Frog’s coming to tea, I’ll make a surprise
But what does a frog eat, other than flies?’
Scabby the cat looked up from his bed
And with one eye open, he grumpily said:
‘You cannot cook, and your baking is tragic
If I were you, I’d try and use magic.’
‘This cat is a bit of a grouch.’ I laugh. ‘I think I like him.’
As I continue reading, Alfie gets very involved, knowing every word by heart and laughing at my attempts to sound like a witch, a cat and eventually a frog. I’m quite proud of myself: for someone who’s never babysat before, I’m killing it.
So next time a witch asks you to tea
It’s probably best to say ‘thank you’ and ‘please’.
It’s never advised to make the mistake
Of being unkind while eating her cake.
‘Wow, that frog wasn’t very. . .’
I look down and see that Alfie has fallen fast asleep, his little face smooshed into his pillow. I close his book and place it on his table before positioning Max back at the end of his bed to watch over him. I envy his ability to fall asleep so quickly.
Sarah arrives back at 10.30pm, while Matt waits for me outside in the taxi.
‘How was he?’ she asks, peeking her head around his door. ‘Any problems?’
‘He was brilliant,’ I reply. ‘We played, we read about a frog’s birthday party, he showed me where you hide the good biscuits – I think it was a roaring success.’
Her face lights up. ‘God, I’m so pleased! I can’t thank you enough. I usually pay Bianca ten pounds an hour if that’s—’
‘Jesus, don’t pay me,’ I respond. ‘It’ll cheapen the whole experience. Besides, I probably ate my wages in Kit Kats anyway.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Pretty sure; you had an entire tin of Kit Kats before I arrived. I didn’t even know they came in tins. . .’
‘No, stupid. About the money.’
I nod, making my way to the front door. ‘Totally. It was either this or sitting alone watchingReal Housewives, and there are only so many episodes I can watch before I start resenting that I have to work for a living, when really, I’m much prettier than Heather. Anyway, I’d better shoot if the taxi is waiting. I don’t want Matt to start talking about politics and annoy the driver.’
Part of me wants to stay. I feel at home here surrounded by Sarah’s quirky artwork and interesting little knick-knacks. I just want to chill out, drink wine and chat shit. She has that effect on me.
